The Straight Date
by Guiltipleasures
Summary: Marik thinks it's kind of like a date. ("Only not! Because I'm straight!") Bakura thinks it's more like a waste of time. Even so, it forces him to ponder their current relationship. /Thiefshipping/ Inspired by and based around YGOTAS and Rinbo's date comic.


**I think it's safe to say that Marik and Yami Bakura are my OTP now.**

**This is just some cute, silly Thiefshipping inspired by and centered around YGOTAS and Rinbo's date comic from like four years ago. (If you've never seen the comic, you can find a link to it on my profile.) The beginning dialogue before the title is more or less from the comic, but the rest of the fanfic is mine.**

* * *

" . . . Marik?"

"What?" he asked curtly, rapt in whatever he was seeing through those binoculars he had pressed to his face.

"Is there a particular reason why we're sitting behind this bush watching the Game Shop?" He spoke as if he hadn't already asked the Egyptian twenty-some-odd times in the last hour or so what the hell they were doing, but maybe Marik would actually care to answer this time.

"Well, duh! We're obviously waiting for Yugi to leave so we can stalk him! This way we can figure out his weaknesses and plan the best time to strike so that he least expects it! Plus, this bush smells nice."

The bush did smell nice, earthy and sweet, but that was not the issue. ". . . Right." He should be better at seeing these sort of harebrained schemes coming by this point.

"And maybe later we can stalk him to dinner and a movie! You know, like some kind of evil date."

_'Wait a minute.' _Bakura whipped his head around to face Marik, who was still peeking through those ridiculous binoculars. _'Did he just . . . '_ He felt his face flush. _'Did he just—?!'_

"Only not! Because I'm straight!" He finally looked up from the lens, flashing a bold smile. "It's a Straight Date!"

Bakura groaned and let his shoulders slump. This was going to be a long and arduous stalking.

-THE STRAIGHT DATE-

When Marik had first said that they were going to "stalk Yugi" to dinner and a movie, Bakura hadn't realized how literal he was being. He'd assumed he was just being coy. Or stupid. It was difficult to tell, sometimes. But no, apparently he'd already figured out Yugi's schedule for that day and knew that he was, in fact, planning on going out to eat and seeing a film with his friends. And Marik was fully intending to follow the lot of them and drag Bakura with him too, rather to the spirit's chagrin.

Bakura made no effort to hide the fact that he was completely against the idea. He'd been sulking and throwing dagger-glares at the boy all the way to the restaurant, where they were currently ducking in a booth on the opposite side of the room from Yugi and his friends to avoid being seen. So far, his passive-aggressive approach hadn't had much effect. Marik hardly noticed, though that may have been because Bakura was always this sullen. It was his default emotion, and it only became more overt the more he had to put up with Marik and his idiocy.

"Bakura?" Marik cocked his head and looked his partner over curiously.

The ancient soul was still glaring at him, but his mind had drifted. He had started imagining what it would be like if the pair of them were actually competent villains. Well, if _Marik_ was actually a competant villain. Bakura would attest to his own proficiency for evil till his dying day, and he was absolutely aware that his less efficient partner was holding him back.

"Bakuuuuuuura!" the boy sang, waving a hand in front of Bakura's face.

Sometimes, Bakura considered leaving. Maybe it wouldn't have to take him nearly two hundred episodes to set his plan into motion if he wasn't stuck babysitting a bratty Egyptian teenager the whole time. The thought persisted in his mind, though he never actually acted upon it. As a matter of fact, since evil didn't exactly pay a living wage, Marik and Bakura had ended up splitting rent on a small apartment, so it appeared that Bakura would be staying for some time. Bakura sometimes wondered why he bothered.

Marik hurled a small, flat something that felt like plastic at his partner, which smacked him just above his eye. The spirit blinked. "What the bloody hell did you just throw at me?"

"You were doing it again!" the teen said with a pout.

"Doing what?"

"Ignoring me! I told you not to do that anymore."

He hadn't really been ignoring Marik. Well, at least he hadn't been ignoring his physical presence. Bakura preferred to think of it as pressing the mute button. "I've told you before, you're practically impossible to ignore. Your voice somehow always manages to hit that certain pitch that makes me feel like my ears are going to bleed."

Marik scoffed indignantly. "The only reason they'd bleed is from over-exposure to sheer awesome!"

Bakura rolled his eyes, but he didn't bother debating. There wouldn't really be a point. He searched underneath the table for whatever it was that Marik had thrown at him, but he couldn't find it. When he looked up, he saw that the boy had propped up his menu to cover his face and was peeking out through two large and very obvious holes in the laminated sheet. Bakura sighed. "I'm not going to be the one to pay for that."

"Shh! Bakura, we're going into Super-Sneaky Stealth Mode!"

"I don't think that—"

"Activate Stealth Mode!"

"I don't—"

"Have you activated it yet?"

" . . . No. Marik, I don't think—"

"Why not?" he whined. "You're no fun!"

Bakura growled. "I don't think 'stealth' is the right word for it."

"We're _stalking_, Bakura, we can't afford to be conspicuous!"

"Look at us. We're two of the most conspicuous characters in this show, and that's saying quite a lot. You wear a purple belly shirt and cover yourself in gold, and I'm_—"_

"Your hair is friggin' huge and white," Marik pointed out. "Nicki Minaj would be jealous."

Bakura scowled and fought the urge to retort. "What I'm saying is, I don't think the menu is going to do much. And anyway, the waiter is going to take it away as soon as we order, and once he sees what you've done to it we'll probably be thrown out." He leaned into the booth and folded his arms across his chest. "This plan is just another waste of my time, isn't it?" he muttered. Marik turned away without a reply to observe Yugi and his friends. Bakura took advantage of Marik's preoccupation to sneak yet another few moments of willful ogling.

In truth, Bakura knew exactly why he hadn't left Marik yet. The reason was multifaceted, but it all had to do with Marik being the only person there for him. Around anyone else Bakura had to pretend to be Ryou, but with Marik he was just Bakura. He was himself. He could be as evil as he wanted, and Marik wouldn't judge him for it. Most of the time. Bakura had gotten to know Marik, and he'd discovered that the two of them were similar in the scars that they bore from their childhood, the scars that permeated and misshaped their present. Marik had become the closest thing to a friend that Bakura had ever had. The boy could be dimwitted, but he could be surprisingly clever as well; he could be childish and aggravating, but he was the one thing that threatened to make Bakura remotely happy about his much-too-long existence. And damn it all if he wasn't drop-dead gorgeous.

They weren't able to hear anything that Yugi and his friends were saying from their booth, they couldn't get any closer without being seen, and—as Bakura had predicted—as soon as one of the waiters saw that Marik had destroyed their menu with scissors that had disappeared into hammerspace, they were asked to kindly vacate the premises. Bakura had been looking forward to eating something with meat, since Marik refused to keep any in their apartment and it was very rare that they ate out. "Well, so much for that," he said, placing his hands behind his head.

He started to walk back to their apartment, but Marik stopped him. "We're not done yet! We can still stalk them to the movies!"

Bakura frowned. "What are you suggesting? That we wait out here for God knows how long until they finish? So, not only do I not get dinner, but I have to sit on the side of the street for an hour, maybe longer?"

"Evil requires dedication, Bakura!"

"It also requires at least half a brain, but that doesn't stop you from trying, right?"

"Exactly! Wait a minute. Hey!"

"Marik, I'm going home." He turned with a wave goodbye. "Have fun with . . . whatever you're hoping to accomplish."

"But Bakura!" came the nasal cry as the spirit was seized by his host's arm. "It's no fun if I do it alone! Look, there's a snack shop over there, and there's some more flowery bushes over there! Plus, we can get food when we go to the movies." His stare was pleading. Bakura felt a lump form in his throat. "_Pleeeaaaaaase_?"

A tinge of pink crept across his cheeks. "F-fine," he spat. "But . . . you're paying for me to eat."

"What do you care about money? All that you have is stolen anyway, you can just steal more."

"It takes a lot of effort to steal, you know. Especially nowadays. You try stealing for a living."

"I _do_ steal for a living!" Marik said. "No one seems to remember that. I steal Duel Monsters cards with my Rare Hunters. I stole a boat and a motorcycle, and I steal from the Steves all the time! How do you think I pay for my share of the rent? And technically I did steal the Millennium Rod. For frig's sake, I steal _people _when I take control of their minds for my own personal agenda. We're _both_ thieves." Bakura took a step back when the boy jutted a finger in his face. "_That's_ why it's called _Thiefshipping_!"

Marik turned and darted down the street, leaving Bakura slightly off-balance. "What the—where are you going?!"

"Be right back, I have to pee-tinkle!" He ran into a nearby shop.

Bakura scratched the back of his head and strolled over to the bushes that Marik had pointed out, across the street and only a building down from the restaurant where Yugi and his friends where eating. He plopped down on the sidewalk beside them and waited for Marik to return.

Concerning the partnership that they had formed, such as it was, Bakura was never fully clear on what Marik wanted out of it. Was he actually interested in what Bakura had to offer as a villain, or was he just a needy child looking for someone to give him constant attention? Bakura leaned towards the latter; Marik rarely approved of any evil plot that wasn't his own, he would never risk being upstaged. And whenever Marik needed attention Bakura usually gave it to him. He listened to his ranting and raving, he went along with his plans, even if he knew they were doomed from the start. His attitude was bitter and sarcastic, but he still submitted himself to a good amount of Marik's whims. He gave Marik what he needed in the same way that the boy gave him what he needed, so, in a strange and twisted way, their relationship worked.

When Marik came back, Bakura took the binoculars (which were kept in the same place as the scissors, along with a variety of other things that may or may not be useful) from him and peeked through the bushes to spy on the restaurant. Yugi and his friends were by the window and easily seen from where the villains lay hidden.

"We still can't hear a word they're saying. I'm not sure how this is going to give us any clues as to what their weaknesses might be."

"Hey Bakura, do you want a date?"

"We're already doing that, Marik."

"Not a straight date, a fruit date."

"For buggery's sake, make up your mind! Are you straight or aren't you?!"

"Bakura, I'm talking about _fruit_!" Bakura looked up to see Marik holding up a bag of dried dates.

" . . . Oh. No, I'm . . . fine." Bakura went back to spying on the main characters and hoped that Marik wouldn't notice the color in his cheeks. _'Dammit.'_ Sometimes he really hated how pale Ryou was. It made every slight blush so embarrassingly noticeable. Marik shrugged and continued to munch on the shriveled, blackened lumps of disgraced fruit while Bakura silently wondered if his partner had created the confusion on purpose.

As was said before, Marik could be surprisingly clever. Mostly, he was an imbecile, but he did have his moments. It hadn't been entirely dumb luck that had won him two god cards and a spot in Battle City—the dark personality inside him might've helped a little, but still. Marik was a successful crime boss, and he was pretty good at manipulating things to his advantage. He certainly had Bakura wrapped around his finger, though Bakura would insist that he was too blinded by the boy's midriff to notice or care. The fact that Marik was a lovely piece of eye candy _did_ help heal his wounded pride whenever he started to feel ashamed of himself for letting Marik dictate their relationship, or at the very least help distract him from it. But the truth was that, though their relationship functioned (albeit at a very basic level), Bakura wasn't always satisfied with it.

Bakura sometimes wanted more from Marik. Bakura actually wanted to _someday_ defeat the Pharaoh, and he'd figured out a long time ago that his goals weren't going to be accomplished with Marik. He wasn't sure what to do about that predicament yet, and on top of it there was a much more pressing matter that he had to deal with on a daily basis. A part of Bakura, the part that grew weary of his—dear God—five thousand years of life and of his revenge mission, wanted to forget about the whole thing, forget everything else and just stay. Stay in this life, stay in the apartment. Stay with Marik.

If things could ever be that simple.

Bakura often wondered if Marik knew how much he made him question everything he'd always been certain about. It was so hard to figure the Egyptian out that Bakura was never sure if Marik was oblivious, was pretending not to see it, or was simply toying with him. Bakura would've believed any one of them. It was almost as frustrating as the feelings he desperately struggled to ignore, and it made him paranoid.

Yet, when everything else boiled down, it didn't really matter.

After much uneventful spying, "Look! They're coming out! Move over, Bakura!" Marik tackled Bakura into the bushes. "_Ow_! Friggin' hell, your host is so bony! That's going to leave a bruise."

"Maybe you shouldn't jump on top of me," Bakura said, shoving him.

"Maybe _you_ should shut up!"

"_Keep your voice down_," he hissed. He pointed to the restaurant door, where Yugi and his friends were lingering. They had to be careful to not be seen while the protagonists were on the move.

Bakura's insides coiled violently just looking at the lot of them, especially the reincarnation of his ancient enemy. Though Yugi wasn't technically the man who destroyed his family and home, he looked enough like him. Too much. He hosted the Pharaoh's soul, and as far as Bakura was concerned that made him guilty as well. Bakura hated him. He hated all of them. He couldn't let go of the past, even if he wanted to. Not even for Marik.

Not that there was any chance for them anyway. Marik was in denial over his sexuality and one hundred percent unmindful of relationships, and Bakura had more important things on his mind and wasn't holding out hope. Hope never held out for him.

Marik and Bakura followed Yugi and company as they headed to the cinema. They were at a safe distance so as not to be noticed, but they were within earshot. Being able to hear their conversation, as it turned out, didn't make much of a difference. It was a lot of meaningless chatter, a lot of unwarranted giggling, and absolutely nothing of significance. Tristan and Téa teased Joey because of something he'd done or said, and Joey loudly protested their mocking. Yugi, meanwhile, chuckled to himself, withholding support and disapproval from either side. They were totally and blissfully unaware as Marik and Bakura stalked them through the streets. The two villains darted from trees and bushes to alleyways, dived behind light posts and mail boxes, crept alongside buildings like they were in some parodical spy movie.

"We should have a theme song," Marik said as they pressed their backs against a brick wall and tiptoed around a corner. "How come Duke gets his own theme song and we don't? This would be the perfect time to have a theme song! It would really complete the whole Bond thing we've got going on, you know?"

"Yes, Marik, this is exactly like a James Bond movie," Bakura mumbled sarcastically. "Minus any of the gadgets, cool cars, over-the-top action sequences, and attractive women. But other than that, exactly the same."

"Pfft, we don't need any of that. All we need is the music to create the atmosphere, and then our enthusiasm will take care of the rest."

"Yippee . . . "

"Come on, Bakura! I, of course, will be James Bond. And you, well, you can be Honey Rider."

"I'm not going to be Honey Rider."

"But James Bond needs a Bond girl!"

"Hey, do you guys hear that?" came the voice of Téa Gardner from further down the street. "Did that sound like . . . ?"

"Huh?" The rest of the group searched for the source.

"Crap!" Marik pushed Bakura into the nearest alley. "Abort, abort!"

Bakura grabbed him and slapped a hand over his mouth. "_I told you to keep your bloody voice down_."

They hid in the alley until Yugi and his friends dismissed whatever they had heard as pure coincidence. (Marik's blunders were often compensated by the main characters' naivety.) While trying to remain undetected, Bakura kept one hand over Marik's loud mouth and one arm around his waist. He didn't realize what he was doing at first, he'd reacted on impulse. When he noticed that he was holding Marik so close to him, he became stuck. His mind and his body were both stuck, unable to separate themselves from this situation. It was so . . . nice.

"Mmfrmr?"

"Huh? What?" Bakura snapped back to attention.

"Mmfrmr!" was the only sound Marik made until Bakura removed his hand. "We're going to lose them!"

"Oh. Right."

Luckily, they caught up with Yugi and his friends and were able to continue stalking them to the movie theatre. When they arrived, Marik and Bakura took their post across the parking lot under a magnolia tree, which didn't smell nearly as nice as the bushes had. It smelled foul and bitter. Marik took the binoculars once again and watched the protagonists, like he was on some wild safari and they were lions in the midst of a mating ritual. Bakura stood by with his arms crossed, alternating between trying to see what was going on at the theatre and recreating the scenario from back at the alley in his mind, exercising a smidge of creative license in the details.

"Hmm . . . " Marik hummed through tight lips.

"So?" Bakura asked, fighting against the persistent fantasy. "Did they choose a movie?"

"Yeah. Something about stars."

"Stars?"

"Yeah, something something stars. I think . . . I think there's an 'F' in there. The . . . fraud? The faint? The—"

His eyes went wide. "The Fault in Our Stars?"

"Oh! That's it!"

Bakura had heard about this movie. A disturbing feeling grew inside his stomach. "Isn't that a romance?"

The binoculars had disappeared again, and Marik's bright violet eyes were staring innocently back at Bakura. "Is it? I thought it was about aliens."

He blinked. " . . . Aliens?"

"I heard it was about aliens that invade earth and use their super advanced weaponry to make all the women cry until the entire planet floods with tears and everyone drowns."

There was a beat before Bakura responded. "For some reason, I'm almost positive that that's not what the movie is about."

"Darn." He shrugged. "Oh well. We should probably go get those tickets."

As they ventured across the parking lot, Bakura asked, "Marik, are you sure about this? About going to see a romantic movie? Isn't it a little . . . weird?"

"Why is it weird? Yugi is seeing it with his friends, right?"

"Well," he muttered awkwardly. "I guess it's pretty popular with teenagers of both genders . . ."

"There you go! I'm a teenager, and you're . . . well, you live inside a teenager, which is close enough."

Bakura hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Fine. I'm pretty sure they die in the end, so at least there's that."

"See?" Marik flashed a smile. "This movie is perfect for us!"

And so, Bakura and Marik bought two tickets to see _The Fault in Our Stars_. (Bakura protested at first, saying that they could sneak in without wasting the money. Marik said it was too risky.) They made a quick stop at the concession stand where Bakura made Marik order a few hotdogs for him and Marik got an armful of candy and a large soda for himself. (_'As if he needs all that sugar,'_ Bakura thought.) Then they slipped in and sat in the very back. Yugi and his friends were in sight, only a few rows front of them.

It didn't occur to Bakura until after the previews ended and the lights went down that the cinema was a really awful place to spy on people. It was too dark to observe, and too hushed to eavesdrop. Bakura sank further into his seat. This really was just a giant waste of time.

"Oh, _great._ They have _cancer_! Now I can't be happy when they die," Marik complained when they were only five minutes into the movie, earning him dirty looks from everyone in the surrounding rows. Bakura smirked.

If nothing else, they could try to enjoy the movie without incident. It seemed possible; as the movie played on, Bakura was sucked in. To his surprise, he found the characters engaging and the story of their doomed romance actually pretty fascinating. The fact that he was sitting in a darkened room next to Marik and watching a love story didn't even bother him after a while. He didn't focus on it. That is, until Marik—the bloody idiot—directed his attention back to it by slowly crossing the implied boundary.

Subtle things to begin with. Taking over Bakura's arm rest, for example. Then, gripping Bakura's sleeve whenever a particularly heart-wrenching scene came on. In the second half of the movie after one such scene, he didn't let go. Bakura tried a few times to inch away and escape him, but he didn't have anywhere to go. The moment it was made clear what the fates of the characters on the screen would be, Marik leaned his head on Bakura's shoulder and hugged his arm. The spirit automatically stiffened in defense. Marik sighed, partly sad because of the film, partly contented by the closeness his best friend, and fully unaware of the turmoil that he was inflicting.

"What are we doing?" Bakura asked in a shaky whisper.

He lifted his head. "What's wrong?"

"I just . . . I don't understand you. I don't understand this." Marik scrunched his brow and twisted his mouth in a curious way that made him look so very adorable. "Why? Why are you . . . _clinging_ to me, like . . . " '_Like you like me. Like this is an actual date. Like we are anything more than partners in crime.'_

Marik loosened his grip. "I-I don't know. I . . . " He seemed embarrassed, which was something almost unknown to him. "I like being close to you. But if you don't like it," he removed himself completely and isolated himself within the confines of his own seat "then I'll stop."

_'I never said I didn't like it.' _Bakura loved being close to the boy, as frustrating as it was to be right beside him and know he could never have him. He never got enough, never felt close enough. If their bodies melded into one and their souls intertwined, he probably still wouldn't be satisfied. And now, his arm felt cold and naked without Marik holding on to him.

If fate would ever be kind to him, maybe things wouldn't have to be this way. Maybe he and Marik could be together, could be happy. If they wound up defeating the pharaoh, well then, that could be the icing on the cake—a cake that Bakura would swallow whole in a second, if fate would be so kind. But fate wasn't kind; it was heartless and cruel. It was the reason Bakura had become a "villain", it was the reason why, as he secretly knew, all his efforts for revenge were in vain. It was fate that cursed him to always yearn for things he couldn't have. _'The Fault in Our Stars indeed . . . '_

The ending of the movie brought the audience to tears. Bakura didn't blame them. It _was_ a sad movie. It hadn't made him cry, but he could admit that it was sad. Yugi and his friends cried along with everyone else, which was something of a comfort. A measly comfort, but still. Marik and Bakura hid in the bathroom to avoid running into the main characters on their way out. It was late, Bakura had said, he was tired, and he wasn't going to stalk anyone anymore that day. He was serious. Marik conceded.

"Even you have to admit that today was a complete waste of time," Bakura said as they walked back to their apartment. It was a dark and cool night at this point, which helped to lighten Bakura's mood somewhat. He liked taking walks at night. It made him feel mysterious. "We didn't learn a single thing that might be useful in defeating the Pharaoh."

"We learned that Yugi and his friends are total suckers for tragic romances," Marik argued.

"I seriously doubt that we can use that information to our advantage. What are we going to do? Have them watch _Titanic_ so that they'll be too invested to notice while we sneak away with the Millennium Puzzle?"

The boy put a finger to his chin and appeared to be in deep thought.

"No. Don't you dare! That wasn't an actual suggestion!" Bakura grabbed his shoulder. "Stop thinking about it!"

He chuckled playfully. "I'm not really considering it. Jeez, Bakura, you're so easily riled up. But you're cute when you're angry, so it's okay."

"Well, if you didn't always—wait." Bakura stopped. "What did you say?"

Marik smiled back at him. "I said you're cute. It's a compliment."

"That's, um . . . " He had to look away. "It's not like it's my face or anything, so . . . . " He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued down the street. At least it was dark. Maybe Marik wouldn't see how red he was.

"Ryou is your reincarnation, though. Isn't he?" Marik asked, following close behind.

"Yeah?"

"So, he's kind of like you, right?"

Bakura glared at the ground. "No. He's nothing like me."

"Good." Before he could ask him what that was supposed to mean, Marik skirted around him and kissed him on the cheek. Bakura jolted and weakened and melted and froze, all at once.

Marik was still smiling that deceptively innocent smile while Bakura stared in shock. "You . . . why . . . I don't . . . " His mind was whirring so fast he couldn't speak in completed thoughts.

"For the love of crap, Bakura, take a friggin' hint!" The boy laughed. "Okay, maybe I shouldn't have gotten so carried away with the teasing, but, like, that was half the fun right there, so you can't blame me."

Bakura blinked. "What?"

"And I _literally_ _threw myself on top of you_ earlier, and you just pushed me away! Seriously, who does that?! To _this_ body?!" He stared silently, dumbfounded as Marik went on. "I mean, when we first became friends I did that sort of stuff just to piss you off, but then you actually got me to fall in love with you and I—"

Bakura had to interrupt. "You—_what_?!"

"I like you," Marik said matter-of-factly. "I did just kiss you, doesn't that kind of go without saying by this point?"

"No, you said love the first time. You said you love me!"

He feigned ignorance. "Did I?"

"I swear to God, Marik, I'm this close to—" Their lips met, effectively nulling whatever Bakura had been about to threaten.

For as long as Bakura could remember, he'd been lost in dreams. Dreams of what should have been, dreams of what might one day be. Sad, dark, unfulfilling dreams. This one was different. This one was new and sweet, untarnished by years of hopeless isolation and strife. It made him feel weightless, dizzy, warm. And the best part was, it was real.

They parted, but remained close. Marik whispered, "I know what I said. And I meant it."

Bakura rested his forehead against Marik's, his heart beating fast in his chest. "Marik . . . I . . . " He wasn't sure what to say. For so long, he hadn't believed he was capable of love. And, all things considered, Marik shouldn't be capable of love either. They were both so broken, so corrupted by forces beyond their control. They both had a powerful darkness inside of them, an evil coercion that could never fully be dispelled. How were they supposed to even know what love was? As if they had ever been shown what love looked like, what it felt like.

With all this in mind, Bakura couldn't ignore the racing of his heart. Whatever it was he was feeling,—he had never thought to consider a label—it was something. If it wasn't love, it had to be the closest thing to it that someone like him could wish for. And if Bakura was going to do nothing else with his life but embrace a dream, he wanted it to be this one.

"I love you too," he said with new-found hope.

Marik smiled. "I know."

They continued back to the apartment that they shared almost as if nothing had changed, but the whole black world felt different all of a sudden. In the sky, the stars weren't shinning, but it didn't matter. Everything else could fail them, but they would stay on their path, together, making their way as they damn well pleased.

* * *

**And they lived happily ever after! Yay!**

**This doubled as an exercise for me to prove that I could write a K+ story.**

**It was never stated that Marik actually stole any boat or motorcycle, but I like to believe that he did. Honestly, where would he get money to buy any of this stuff? I suppose he could steal it from one of his minions . . . but either way. I just never understand why people ask why it's called Thiefshipping if only Bakura is a thief, when Marik steals plenty of stuff too.**

**So, I'm actually pretty proud of how this turned out. Really, though, I should probably be focusing on my other stories . . . or, you know, important things . . . oh well.**


End file.
